Hunter & Hunted
by Lucrecia Christina
Summary: Daphne's respite gets interrupted by the Winchesters blowing down her hotel room door.  Will they both spend another evening with her?


**Daphne: Part 2 **

Daphne needed a hot shower and a long sleep. As a matter of fact, if she slept for the next week or two it still wouldn't be long enough. She was exhausted and she felt a funk emanate from her that would make a skunk gag. She had been driving for days stopping to pee and fuel up, only. She ate and slept in her VW Thing which was also starting a funk that was leaving a vapor trail in its wake. Daphne finally decided she and The Thing deserved a break and a bath.

So here she was the fifth customer in line at the check in counter of the nearest and cheapest hotel. Daphne was standing behind a family of 5 whose children were all arguing and screaming, "Mommy this…and Daddy that." Mommy and Daddy were busy ignoring their children and sniping at each other about the size room they should get. The other 3 people to which Daphne had the luxury of being in close proximity were a business man who kept checking the time on his overly expensive watch, a biker and his "bitch" as her t-shirt clearly stated, and a couple who were obviously here for the hour.

Daphne kept switching her weight from one hip to the other and sighing. She was not the most patient of individuals and waiting did nothing to improve her mood. She was swinging her knapsack from side to side and tapping her foot. She looked down at her boots and saw the remains of the thing she'd eviscerated a few days back. Her head snapped up and she looked around. Nobody paid her any attention as she dragged the tip of her boot on the Pier 1 Oriental Rug that covered the white tile in front of the faux wood check in desk.

Finally, it was her turn, "I need a room for the night, maybe two nights."

The pock marked petulant face of the clerk was enough to make Daphne want to reach over and smack her, but the girl, "Kortni" as her name tag boasted, said, "Sure, hon. Looove your accent. But, uh, all we got left is a king suite or the honeymoon suite." Kortni snapped her chewing gum in a series of pops that was quite impressive.

Daphne rolled her eyes and sighed, "Really? This place has a honeymoon suite?"

Just then the manager, an overweight prison matron with cotton candy hair and the jowls of a St. Bernard came around the corner. Betsy's name tag rested quite comfortably on breasts that could crush a man's skull, "Hi shug. Can I hep you? Miss Kortni wha don't you go take yo break now."

Betsy scooted Kortni out of the way and sighed deeply, "Sorry 'bout her shug. She's ma niece and is ony tempraray. As she said though, we only got dem two rooms 'valbul. Unfortnatly, Kortni dint book da otha rooms raht. Shug, what I can do is give ya one of dem rooms at regla caust."

Daphne took a couple of beats to process and interpret what Betsy said. Apparently, though, Betsy thought that Daphne was going to be difficult, because Betsy added, "Look, shug, I can give you the king suite fo da price of a regla dubba room and the honeymoon suite I can let go fo da price of da king suite. Ya'll are gettin' a smokin' deal no matta da room."

Daphne held up her hand to keep the mountain of a woman from speaking in that horrible language again, her brain just couldn't take it, "I'll take the king suite. How much?"

"Sendy-fo thudy two. Check out is 'leven tamorra'. Jus' fill dis' here out an' ya'll're set."

Daphne regarded the little index card shoved in front of her. She never bothered using an alias, because her name, Daphne Blake, looked and sounded fake enough to pass as an alias. She was after all named after a cartoon character. She finished filling out the card and slid it back across the counter where she waited for the typical eyebrow raise and tongue click.

Sure enough, Miss Betsy held the card between the tips of her thumb and forefinger, shit brindle brown eyes peering up over the card at Daphne, "Daphne Blake? Really? Shug, I seen some fanciful names through dis here place," she shrugged enormous shoulders, "ta each 'is own ah guess." She took the four 20's Daphne slid across the counter for her room and returned her the change and a room keycard, "Thud flo', end o' da' hall ba da staz."

Daphne grabbed her change off the counter and wadded it into the front pocket of her carpenter pants. She rushed off to find her room on the 'thud flo, end o' da' hall ba da staz'. All she wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed. She didn't care about the amenities a suite might offer. Though opening the door to the suite she imagined air quotes around the word "suite". She laughed as she turned the light on.

The suite consisted of a large room with a king sized bed, a couch, a chair, a mini-fridge – with nothing in it, microwave, and the smallest coffee maker she'd ever seen. The bathroom was a regular bathroom, shower stall, toilet, sink. The one thing that did catch her attention was the hot tub inside the room. She peeked her head in again at the bathroom – no tub, just a shower stall. She sighed…she had wanted to take a bath but wasn't sure if she wanted to soak in a tub that had mirrors all the way around it; seeing that much of herself while bathing was not the number one thing on her agenda.

She threw her bag on the bed and plopped herself down beside it. Daphne leaned forward putting her hands in her face and then raking her hands threw her crimson tresses. She embraced this new life she'd fallen into, secretary to beast hunter, it was exciting and exhilarating and very exhausting.

But, she did have to admit that it was lonely. Damn lonely.

Daphne lost her sister in the woods when they were hunting together when that thing took her. Those boys showed up and took care of it when she couldn't. And then they took care of her.

She smiled broadly at the memory; a crappy day that ended quite lovely and sweatily.

Daphne dragged herself off the bed and over to the hot tub, rolling her eyes at her reflection she walked past the tub to the bathroom. She turned the faucet to a nice warm temp and hopped in the tiny shower stall. She let the spray hit her face, then turned and soaked her hair. Daphne just stood under the spray with her eyes closed, silently kicking herself for not stopping somewhere, anywhere, before this, if only for this reason; a shower.

When she was done scrubbing her skin to a nice raw pink color, she stepped out and wrapped a towel firmly around herself. She padded back into the "living room" of the suite and eyed the hot tub, "What the hell?" she said to herself as she leaned over and turned the faucet, adjusting the water temperature accordingly.

She used the remote to switch on the TV and slipped in the tub, eyes closed so she didn't have to see herself in the mirror. She had bruises and scars all over her body from her new lifestyle. She didn't really want to be reminded in a dozen different reflections of every single scratch, bruise, and scar.

Daphne reached over and turned the jets on, "Holy shit," she sighed and slipped deeper into the tub. She closed her eyes enjoying the sensation of the hot water and the forced air through the water, if there's a Heaven, she thought, this is it.

She wasn't sure how long she'd had her eyes closed when she was startled, causing her eyes to snap open. She furrowed her brow and listened, turning the jets off and muting the TV. She slipped out of the tub and re-wrapped herself in a towel when a commotion in the hall drew her attention, "Fuck."

She ran over to her bed and grabbed her bag and ripped it open. Digging down into the bottom she pulled out her hand gun, a .45 caliber Colt MK IV Series 80 1911 pistol, it was similar to Dean Winchester's, though Daphne's engravings were special to her and the grips were mother of pearl rather than ivory.

Daphne checked the magazine clip and clicked off the safety. She sidestepped to the door to peak out the peep hole. Before she could make it there the door exploded inward and almost knocked her on her ass.

One man backed into the room yelling out to the hall, "Son of a bitch! Say the damn spell all ready! I'm runnin' out of ammo!"

She recognized that voice, both voices actually! A resounding BOOM filled the hall and Daphne's ears, causing a ringing in her ears.

Daphne now could not hear the voices but she recognized the man standing in her door shooting out into the hall. Smoke billowing into the room from the discharged weapons and the smell of rotten eggs filled her senses to over flowing and she gagged at the odors.

"'Scuse me, ma'am. We've got a dangerous…er…uh… well you might just want to duck back in… SON OF A BITCH, SAM! CAN YOU GO ANY SLOWER?" Dean Winchester glanced side long into the room, barely noticing her.

BOOM!

Another blast from the sawed off shotgun, more billowing smoke, and then silence, except for the people milling in the hall wondering what the hell was going on?

"Folks, folks. Everything's fine! We're…uh…we're shooting the pilot for a new TV show this season. Catch it on The CW, Friday's at nine, eastern standard time of course!" Dean rolled his eyes as he turned around, pulling an 'I hope they bought that crap' face.

He started walking in the room gun in hand, muzzle facing the floor, Daphne backed up, still with pistol in hand.

Dean stopped realizing he was heading the wrong direction, he finally took stock of his surroundings, he held up his one hand, "Sorry. Sorry."

The younger brother ran past the doorway, but caught the door jamb in one of his hands, "Dean, man, damn. You all right? You, miss, you all right? Hey," Sam pointed at her, "you're…you're Daphne…Daphne Blake. We met you a few months back." Sam smiled.

Dean's head snapped up, he looked back at Sam and then back at Daphne, recognition coloring his expression, "I thought you looked familiar."

"Oh, bullshit. You were too busy blasting the hallway to smithereens to notice me. Now, could you get the fuck out? Thanks!" Daphne turned her back on them; she was in no mood for macho crap. Her mind was on the hot tub and lounging for the night.

Daphne safety'd her pistol and tossed it on the bed, sensing she was being watched she turned around and saw the two of them watching her, each leaning against a wall, "What, are you deaf?" she asked.

She watched as Dean shrugged his broad shoulders, turned and chucked his brother on the shoulder, "You heard the lady. We gotta get on the road anyway," Dean threw his hand out in a gesture of departure, "Catch up next time."

Daphne followed them to the door, still clad only in the tiny white towel, leaning her right hand on the door jamb, "Next time, knock." She slammed the door, laughing. She slammed the security swing lock in place.

Sighing, Daphne went back to her bath, grumbling because the water had grown tepid. She drained over half the water and refilled the tub using all hot water. She slipped back in the tub and turned the jets on, "Heaven…"

It wasn't long before she closed her eyes for a second time, thinking about those two boys. Why am I always so sarcastic to them?

Daphne was so relaxed in the tub it took her a few minutes to realize someone was stroking a large purple bruise on her arm, she jumped, splashing water and twisting her ankle, "Ah, fuck, fuck. God damn fucker, fuck fuck!"

A smile and green eyes watched her fit then Dean's sarcastic voice said, "You all right?"

Daphne's hands flew to her breasts, "What the fuck? How the hell…who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Hell of a mouth on you, Daph. How'd you get all these bruises?" A dangerous tone colored his tone.

Crossing her legs and sitting up straighter, she shook her hair back off her shoulders, "Hunting, you git. How the hell did you get in here?"

"Picked the lock. Git? Really? Daph…Daphne…why you gotta be so mean?" He stood and slipped his leather jacket and over shirt off, tossing them on the bed next to her pack and gun.

She bit her bottom lip, and turned her head towards the direction of the door, "It's an electronic key lock, and I had the bolt in place, and where's Sam?"

Dean smiled in the middle of removing his grey t-shirt, and peeked at Daphne through the crook in his elbow, "Magnetic, not electronic. Bolt cutters. Does it matter?"

He was out of the rest of his clothes and slid into the tub before Daphne could ask him any more questions, holding up his progress, "Holy shit, this is better than the magic fingers."

Dean looked over at Daphne, still covering herself, he laughed, reached over and pulled her to him, "Relax. I know you're as much a virgin as I am. So why you being such a prude?" He rested her on his lap, he stroked her hair and pulled her head back, nuzzling her neck.

Daphne was still clutching her breasts when she sighed, "Not a prude. Plum cream crackered."

Dean gripped her shoulders and pulled her away from him, with raised eyebrows and a sarcastic smile, "Pl-Plum cream crackered? I dig food and chicks, but…uh…that doesn't sound all that sexy."

Daphne laughed and stroked Dean's face, lifting his chin, "You are an idiot." She leaned in a kissed him.

Dean wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, "You know," he growled, "hot tub sex is pure fiction."

She laughed, "Mmm, fiction can be fun."

Dean put his hands on Daphne's waist and lifted her off him, he moved to the middle of the tub resting his butt on his feet, "Stand up."

Not sure what was coming she did as he suggested. He watched intently as the water cascaded down her body like an erotic waterfall. Dean reached up and grabbed her by the waist again, pulling her back down in the water and then pushing her back up. This time, however, instead of watching the water cascade down her body Dean used his tongue to lap up the paths of water coursing down her body.

Daphne groaned at the sensation as she again felt the pressure on her waist from Dean's firm and calloused hands. He was pulling her back down in the water and pushing her back to standing. He pushed her long bruised legs apart and making a slurping noise eagerly lapped at the water falling from between her legs.

Back down in the water and up. Dean moved closer and pulled her toward him, draping her left leg over his right shoulder. Daphne threw her arms out to either side holding on to the mirrored wall for support. Dean cradled her thigh in the crook of his arm and ran his tongue the length of her wet pink flesh.

He nuzzled his face between her legs and rotated his neck in a serpentine motion. Daphne thrust her hips forward and used one of her hands to grab the back of his head forcing his tongue deeper and throwing her own head back in pleasure.

Dean, encouraged by Daphne's moans, dug his face deeper and used his teeth to nibble on her swollen clit, making her scream.

She heard him laugh and moan at the same time and felt him slip his tongue inside her, the sensation caused her body to jerk and she almost lost her footing. Dean held her in place and didn't miss a single important lick.

He could feel her thigh muscles start to spasm and he tightened his grip on her. Daphne's own grip on Dean's head became fingers entwined in his short hair. Her breathing grew heavy and moaning grew much, much louder.

Daphne felt the waves move through her much like the water in the tub moved around her and Dean. Her right knee bent in and then stiffened as her body was thrown back with the force of her orgasm. Dean gave her quivering ass a good smack and squeezed the trembling flesh.

Dean slid her away, carefully, and pulled himself up on the side of the tub, reaching out to Daphne, he patted his legs, "Have a seat."

With a look of doubt, a shrug of her shoulders, and a good grip on Dean's muscled shoulders, Daphne nestled herself down on Dean's tumescent cock. She had to wriggle and push as her pussy was beyond tight.

Dean grabbed a handful of her hair, licked her neck, and growled, "Jesus…your tight…when's the last time you got laid?"

Daphne laughed, "Awhile," she breathed in his ear. She nibbled on his ear lobe, as he moved his hand over her shoulders and pushed her down. They both threw their heads back as the length of his cock finally entered the confines of her vise like cunt.

The position was precarious, at best, with Dean's left hand behind him for balance and his right hand caressing Daphne's neck. Daphne's feet were slipping on the wet floor of the still operating hot tub.

"Fuck this," Dean said, exasperated.

He carefully stood, gripping Daphne around the waist, slipping slightly, he regrettably pulled her off him and stepped out of the tub. Dean reached out his hand to help her out of the tub as well and then placed his hands in her underarms and tossed her on the bed, "Hey," she screamed.

He clapped his hands together, licked his lips, and said, "Now we're talking!"

Dean took two long strides towards the bed, grabbed her legs and pulled her towards him so that her ass was hanging off the edge. He threw her left leg over his right shoulder, again, and with his left hand gripped her right ankle, holding her leg out straight.

Dean managed to slide his cock inside her without struggling too much. He pushed in slowly, tantalizingly and then out. Daphne's body arched up, his body was too far away for her to touch him, and so she threw her arms back above her head.

Dean held her leg to him nuzzling the smooth skin against his whiskered face. He kissed the side of her knee and ran his tongue on the inside of her thigh. He was still trusting oh so tantalizingly slowly and making a serpentine like movement with his hips.

Wanting to feel her body against his, Dean dropped Daphne's right leg and leaned down, bringing her left knee up to her shoulder and wrapping her other leg around his waist.

"Jesus," she whispered, as she began caressing his body, now covered in beads of sweat.

Dean nibbled her chin and caressed her face with both his hands. He entwined both his hands in her crimson tresses, and bit her cheek.

Daphne dug her heals in his back and as she was running her hands over his shoulders she dug her nails in. Dean's thrusts became longer and harder and Daphne's eyes rolled in her head; they were both heading towards the same erotic destination.

The waves of pleasure spiraled through them both. Dean slamming his cock so hard into her that their flesh made slapping sounds. Daphne's back arched up and her legs flew wide as their orgasms reached their peaks. Two voices screaming their pleasure only to be drowned out by the sound of the water still splashing around in the hot tub.

Dean held Daphne's arms and bent his head down to her chest, breathing heavily, "Plum cream crackered. I get it."

Daphne slapped him on the shoulder, "Just gotta love that fiction."


End file.
